


The Canary

by theosymphany



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Early Days, M/M, Nivanfield, Pre-RE6, working for the captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22542736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theosymphany/pseuds/theosymphany
Summary: It has only been months for Piers to work alongside Captain Redfield. There were many meetings which changed a lot of relationship dynamics between the LT and the Captain, this is one of them.
Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield
Kudos: 51





	The Canary

It was 1358. The new lieutenant to Alpha team had planned it to the minute. He had his lunch early, went over the notes he had made, reviewed the things he had on file and mentally went through every last conversation he’s had with the team and of course, his Captain. He checked over himself at the mirror too. Captain is relaxed on grooming standards, but his first lesson from meeting Chris was ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’

He took the longer route to the Captain’s office, not out of habit, but because there’s less chance he’ll be interrupted or run into someone. He wanted to be on time, and have his thoughts where he needed them.

He set off on a purposeful, brisk pace, folder of reports in hand, taking long, measured strides that pass off as confident and looking busy and important enough. Hazel eyes scanned around the perimeters for any unplanned incursions, but he knows deep down he needn’t worry. Staying hidden is his specialty he had mastered, in plain sight, if needed. That said though, he hadn’t been fully able to dodge the spotlight since his time at the BSAA. Being second to the legendary Chris Redfield, afterall, is a high profile role, and the Captain himself isn’t quite a man of subtlety.

He knew as he arrived that the clock had just ticked over to 1400. Captain’s door would usually be open, but he would give four unhurried but confident taps should it be closed. Has he got anything? Should he have brought a treat? Food can be an icebreaker, though the Captain must have a pretty strict diet regime to maintain his bulk…

Focus Piers. He told himself as he banished all irrelevant thoughts.

He could see now that the door was open, letting some rays of the afternoon sun into the otherwise slightly gloomy office. The captain sat at his desk, clawing his mouse, his thick brows furrowed just a little to bring out a few creases. This could be bad.

“Capt-“

“Ah Piers.” Relief fell off the Captain’s face, the five o’clock shadow that usually forms by lunchtime had made him look slightly broody, but the smile was genuine. “Come. Pull up a chair.” He cocked his head to the guest chair beside him.

Piers nodded lightly. All his others commanders usually sat him across the table where they’d have feet up and arms back, as if to silently scream how important they are. Their desks though, usually afforded such luxuries, and the space for it.

Captain Chris Redfield’s desk would be, as his mother would call it, ‘a perennially rueful mess’ bereft of military rigour, but Piers had learnt by day two on base that Captain Redfield sets the rules. Or rather, breaks them at convenience for himself. Piers may never have to worry about an inspection, but also means he’s in that uncomfortable position managing what the enlisted men would consider ‘double standards’.

Regardless, he sat, back straight and attentive, being more than a little pleased that he’s so close to the Captain he could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“It’s our catch up isn’t it. Sorry, I didn’t prepare anything. Uh, did you send- no you must have, I know you would, sorry I didn’t read it, I just…”

Piers nodded and shrugged. Yes, he’d written a short one-page update just in case and emailed through but yet again Chris hasn’t read it, but that’s OK because he’d practiced the verbal brief anyway and knew he preferred that.

“Did you want the two-minute version?”

“Yep, go on- uh wait, oh, that’s right, I was looking at this when you came in. Can I get your thoughts on this first?”

Chris pulled up the email. As he did Piers glanced at the (8709) unread tag and flinched, but told himself to focus.

It was one of those reports, cc’ed for comment by all the team leaders. There must be thousands of those going around.

“Hmm. May I skim the report?” Piers asked.

Chris alt-tabbed and Piers glanced at the page count. Less than fifty. He let out the breath he held in. Trying not to lean in too close to Chris, he scrolled through with the keyboard, looked at the summary and the body, and then the conclusion.

“I think it’s bad, but not quite sure how bad.” Chris said, scratching his head.

“This got drafted by some ivory tower academic who never had a semblance of normal life.”

“How did it get that far then, command can’t actually be that serious about this shit?”

“Well you see when you brand yourself a ‘consultant’, whatever BS they sprout will suddenly became great gems of transformative wisdom that’s it a crime against the state to realise such theoretical gains and crafted rhetoric into action. The good thing is, however, at least it doesn’t read like there’s someone’s self interests in the way…”

“You got a plan of attack?”

“Whatever you do don’t let it be a recommendation. I’m sure every commander out there is fuming about this stuff. I’ll work up some comments on the template in uh, your style and let you review them, but you should go chew the fat with others and draw out their views, and put in a coordinate effort.”

“Mmmh, I like that approach. I can chat to Crosby and K-face. It’s the same crap that keeps going round.”

“So, that brief of yours. Anything important? Do you need me to get money again?”

“No. Nothing of the sort. We could use all kinds of upgrades, but we can’t ask for them willy-nilly, it must be thought out, strategic, have the whole cost, risk benefit balance neatly summed up—”

Chris threw his hands up in defence. “OK, OK, I’m just asking. You work out the details and brief me on what to tell our accounts man. How’s the team?”

“Overall we’re going to be fine. Our teams are much smaller than we used to manage, I’m still getting to know them of course, but they’re willing, have a good attitude and there’s a lot we can cover.”

“I mean, they’re no special forces but miles above army grunts fresh from boot. They’re here because they want to be, and that counts more than anyone realises.”

“Just what I wanted to hear. And how are you?”

“Me? Oh, uh. I’m doing alright. I guess.”

Piers was caught off guard. He’d prepared the brief about everything Chris could ask him about and left out himself. He never thought about himself. As in what Chris would want him to say about himself. Is it like a job interview? Does he stay professional or let out snippets of truth and emotion? No. He never thought about the fact that Chris would ask him about himself. This is the military. No one is your care bear. They want you to get the job done and not cause any problems. Don’t be smart and don’t be stupid. Conform.

“Well you’re doing a damn fine job.” Chris said, clapping a big hand to Piers’ shoulder. “Knew I’d pick the right man.” He grinned a somewhat boyish grin and gave the shoulder a squeeze.

Pier grinned to himself. Chris was a touchy man and he’d be damned if he ever forgot a moment where they connected physically.

“Oh. Another thing.” The squeeze turned to a slap on his shoulder. “What is this writing comments in ‘my style’ that you spoke of?”

Piers blinked. Oops.

“Uh, have you ever hear of ghost writers, Captain?”

“Uh, like the movie with the team with gear battling paranormal lifeforms?” Chris said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Sounds a bit like us, really.”

“Almost, except they fight with words. A ghost writer is like someone who writes for someone else. Like a speech writer, official emails and all.”

Piers feels nervous as Chris stroked his 5’o clock shadow and appraised him intently with his warm brown eyes. He thought about the 8000 unread emails and swallowed.

“Uh, I’m kinda terrible at it, but given the timeframes of the response I might just jot some notes and you can review them so it sounds like it comes from a seasoned… captain and not some fresh-faced rookie from West Point?”

“Seasoned huh?” Chris chuckled. “Medium with a hint of garlic, salt and pepper.”

Piers licked his lips.

“Well, I’ll leave it to you. Forget the style. The key thing is to shoot this thing down before it ever gets off the ground.”

“Yes Sir!” Piers was already plotting in his head. He still needs to write like Chris would, but not as Chris would, but how command would want Chris to, striking that fine balance between authority, reason and a hint of the non-conformant leanings the Captain is known for.

“I know who I picked. You’re not a spring chicken Nivans, even if you look like you belong on a recruitment poster. I see a bright future in you, ghostbusting or zombie busting or writing or whatever else. You’ve got a good package. Of skills and, uh that word…. Aptitude, attitude? Those things. Keep it up.”

“I will, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”

“I’ll send you the docs, no hurry, but if you get it in before 1700 I know there’s a steakhouse you might like.”

Piers raised his eyebrows. Chris is more than his match.

“Right away sir.”

Chris’s eyes followed Piers out of his office, with the golden rays of the sun on his back. He sighed in relief, pressing send on the email. He looked at the other 8000 unread emails, and the pile of reports awaiting read through, and he grinned like a cat who ate the canary.


End file.
